Other's eyes
It is a question with a thousand faces. On the road, in gutters, in their fields, about transistor, in the shade of a tree, in a crowded bus, in a tractor trailer, among the stalls of a market. The look of the other surprises you at every step, sometimes fleeting, other infinite. Zarandea, restless, softens, forces you to think, as. It happens that, when we are so far from home, the other is us.
